


Blindfolded Birthday Games

by paburke



Category: Criminal Minds, Joan of Arcadia
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paburke/pseuds/paburke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family can be the most comforting and annoying on birthdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not mine  
> Spoilers: All of Joan of Arcardia and Season 7 of Criminal Minds

*cm*joa*

 

 “Uncle David?” 

 

Special Agent David Rossi turned in the prison parking lot to look at the pretty, young professional woman.  He didn’t recognize her and she realized it.  “Sorry, it’s been well over a decade but you still look exactly like my dad.  I was a kid the last time you saw me.”

 

“June!” David remembered now that she had given him enough clues.  Her father was actually a second cousin, but the resemblance between David and Will Girardi was uncanny.

 

“Close,” she said with a forgiving smile.  “It’s Joan.”

 

“Joan, sorry.  What are you doing here?”

 

She raised her briefcase.  “I’m interning at the local DA’s office and had an interview here.  What are you doing here?  The presentation you gave for the criminology students was over hours ago.”  She shrugged at his surprise.  “I tried to catch you then to wish you happy birthday but you and your team left too fast.”

 

“You remember my birthday?” David was flabbergasted.

 

“I should hope so.”  Joan grinned impishly.  “It’s the day before mine.”

 

“No!”

 

Joan nodded and started digging through her monster purse.  “It’s on my driver’s license if you don’t believe me.”

 

David raised his hands in surrender.  “I did not remember that.  I believe you.”  He paused and considered how morose the evening would end if he was left alone.  He had just pulled strings to spend time on his birthday with a sadistic serial killer for the sake of one more name of a woman murdered.  “What are you doing for your birthday dinner?” he asked her.  He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

 

Joan switched her briefcase and her purse to her other hand.  “I’ve got a lasagna that my dad made in my freezer and a bottle of cheap red wine.  You’re welcome to join me if you would like.”

 

David shook his head.  “Save that for another day.  Let’s go to dinner.”  He could see her mentally running through her presumably tight budget.  A DA internship wouldn’t pay much of her school loans.  “My treat.  I insist.  Consider it… a thank you for being a family member that did remember my birthday.” 

 

“Are you sure?” she hesitated.

 

“Yes.  Come on.  You have to know the best Italian place in town.  I was told it was Garibaldi’s.”

 

Joan winced.  “It’s the priciest in town, but it isn’t the best.  No one mentioned Boylan Road?”

 

“No.”  David pointed to his rental car.  “That’s where I’m parked.  Do you want me to follow you there?”

 

“I was going to catch a cab home, but…”

 

David interrupted her.  Now that he was offered a little bit of family on such a trying day he was going to seize it.  “Great!  I’ll drive, you navigate.”  He tucked Joan’s hand into the crook of his elbow and steered her toward the car.  “What kind of Italian restaurant is called Boylan Road?”

 

Joan let herself be led away from her intended plans.  She chuckled at the question.  “The kind where a woman born and trained to be a chef in Rome came to the States and fell in love and married a Japanese national.  She took his name so she didn’t want to call the restaurant something that she no longer answered to and if they used his name for the restaurant people would be calling for a whole different genre of food.”

 

David laughed.  “What’s the best thing on the menu?”

 

“The tiramisu,” Joan answered swiftly. “So leave room for dessert.  They have a garden in the back and they grow and make all of their sauces from scratch.”

 

“I am looking forward to this already.”

 

“You should be,” teased Joan.

 

*cm*joa*

 

A week later, Morgan noticed the woman before she approached their desks with a smile.  She was the quiet type of pretty.  She was business but not suave.  “I’m here to see Agent Rossi,” she said to Morgan when their eyes met.

 

Morgan stood and motioned with his hand.  “This way.”  She followed him up the stairs to Rossi’s office and knocked on the door.  “Rossi, you have a visitor.”

 

The older agent looked up and a genuine smile lit up his face.  “Joan.  What a pleasant surprise.”  He stood and came forward to envelope the woman in a hug.  A take out bag hit his shoulder as the woman eagerly returned the embrace.

 

“Is that a Boylan Road tiramisu?”  Rossi motioned to the paper bag.

 

“It is.”

 

“What brings you my way and with such a treat?”

 

Rossi hadn’t motioned Morgan away yet, so he leaned in the doorway to watch the show.

 

“It’s a bribe.  I did something that you won’t like and even though you’re probably be happy with the results, you’ll still want to yell at me.  If you yell, I’ll eat it to feel better.  If you don’t yell, you get it.”

 

Rossi frowned, instantly on alert.  “Joan.  What did you do?”

 

“Nothing illegal,” she promised.

 

“Joan.”

 

She pulled a homemade birthday card out of her pocket.  Rossi instantly recognized the handwriting.  “You didn’t,” he breathed.

 

She shrugged and offered him the card.  “Fifteen more names and locations.”

 

“Joan.”  Rossi was too angry to even speak.  He took the card and read the names of the murdered and the places that they were buried.  She had pried a surprising number out of the murderer.  “That man…”

 

Joan cut him off and turned to Morgan.  “Do you like tiramisu, agent?”

 

“I do,” but Morgan recognized the handwriting as well.  “But I agree with Rossi.  That man…”

 

Joan _rolled her eyes_.  “I handled it just fine.”  And it was true, there was barely a shadow negativity in her actions. The sadist hadn’t touched her spirit.  She was less affected than Rossi, a trained and experienced federal agent, had been.  “So?  Tiramisu?”  She looked so hopeful that Morgan had to intervene.

 

“I’d love some.”

 

Joan’s smile was blinding and she quickly served the dessert on the plates that she had brought.  She handed Rossi and then Morgan a fork, a full plate and a napkin.  Morgan dug in and the treat was as delicious as expected.  Rossi grumbled but finally the smell was too tempting and he took a bite of cream, rum and chocolate.

 

That was when Joan dropped the bomb.  “So this is going to become a birthday tradition, I guess.”  She disposed of the garbage and was out the door.  “I’ll meet you next year at the jail,” she promised cheerfully.

 

The look on Rossi’s face was priceless.  Morgan had to control his amusement so that he wouldn’t spit out the dessert.  They had been played, well and truly played.

 

*cm*joa*

 


	2. The Stand-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David can't make his birthday meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Joan meeting the rest of Rossi’s team or even a part of it from Blindfolded Birthday Games  
> Disclaimer: Sadly, none are mine or Joan would be a guest on CM every now and again.

*cm*joa*

 

Aaron Hotchner walked into the prison with trepidation.  He was betting that David’s ‘niece’ was a lot like her ‘uncle,’ but circumstances were far from his control.  He couldn’t warn her and work out a plan.  He had no other option, but to spring the surprise on her and hope she played along.

 

Joan Girardi was waiting in the visitor’s area, checking her watch and looking worried.  Her eyes flicked up when Hotch walked into the room, but then slid past him to the door.  Hotch saw the moment she recognized him: it was written all over her face.  She didn’t try to hide it.  There was hope for Hotch’s plan.

 

“Where’s Uncle David?”

 

“Yes,” that evil, evil Unsub piped up from the door.  “Where is the great Uncle David?”

 

“In surgery.”

 

Girardi gasped and the Unsub _giggled_ in delight.  Girardi’s glare actually made the man quiet.

 

Hotch motioned to the door.  “If you’ll come with me, Ms. Girardi, I’ll escort you to him and explain everything on the way.”

 

The Unsub sat down between the two up-holders of the law.  “Or, you know.  You could tell us both everything right now.”

 

Girardi leaned over the man and hissed.  “What’s it worth to you?”  She took the words right out of Hotch’s mouth.  Yes, this girl was just like her uncle.

 

The Unsub thought about it.  “Three names.”

 

“Five,” Girardi countered.

 

Hotch fully expected the Unsub to counter with ‘four,’ but he leaned away from her and muttered, “fine.”  Hotch was impressed.  He had been hoping for a measly three names and places to give David when he finally woke.

 

“You first,” Girardi told the murderer.

 

For once, he didn’t draw out his amusement at taking a life and Girardi’s horror.  He wanted to see Girardi’s reaction to her uncle’s peril.  “You now,” he said after he had fulfilled his side of the bargain.  Both of them looked to Hotch and he told them of the case a hundred miles down the road, the young unsub and his mother than had pulled a gun on Rossi during the arrest.  David was currently in critical care and they didn’t even know if he would make it off the operating table.  Every emotion played on Girardi’s face.  The murderer drank it in like a fine wine.

 

At the end of the tale, Girardi fled the table, shoulders shaking and the murderer clapped as if at a performance.  “Bravo!” he actually said.  “Come back any time, Agent Hotchner.  You’re so entertaining.”

 

Hotch didn’t react to him, but motioned a guard to take the man back to his cell.  Girardi wasn’t waiting outside the visiting area and Hotch couldn’t see a bathroom nearby.  He’d wait at the car.  He’d thank Girardi for her assistance and offer to take her home so that she could worry in private.  

 

Hotch found Girardi waiting at _his car_ , texting.  She looked up long enough for Hotch to see her dry eyes.  Oh.  It _had been_ a performance.  David would be so proud of her.  She had opened the door so that Hotch might be able to get victims’ names out of the Unsub sometime in the future.

 

“Is Penelope at the hospital?”

 

Hotch was a bit embarrassed at the moment pause he gave her.  “She’s on her way.”

 

She put her hand on the passenger’s side door of Hotch’s car, clearly waiting for him to let her in.  “I have an order for everyone waiting at Boylan Road Restaurant.  We can pick it up on the way.”

 

“We can?” Hotch echoed mildly.

 

“You’re not leaving me behind,” Girardi promised.

 

David would like to see her when he woke so Hotch unlocked all of the doors.  “What about your car?”

 

“It’s in the shop.  I came in a taxi.”  There was a funny twist to Girardi’s lips, but Hotch would analyze that later.  Right now, he had to care for his team, which meant picking up a (reputably fantastic) meal while they waited for their teammate to pull through.

 

Hotch knew David wouldn’t let them down.  He had family on his side.

 

*cm*joa*


End file.
